


Bound to the Sea

by freezerjerky



Series: Pornalot 16/17 [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/F, Selkies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 21:16:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11998122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freezerjerky/pseuds/freezerjerky
Summary: Gwen thinks little of the sealskin she finds on the beach, she's scarcely had time to tuck it away under the floorboards before there's a knock at the door.





	Bound to the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Pornalot 2017 Week 4: Bound

Gwen thinks little of the sealskin she finds on the beach, she's scarcely had time to tuck it away under the floorboards before there's a knock at the door. It's not so strange to find something so elegant on the beach, there's shipwrecks or people that carelessly throw things overboard. Besides, it looks a bit crude and worse for wear after its time in the briny water.

Morgana comes to her as a tired traveler, wearing just a shift and a sly smile. Gwen ushers her inside immediately and insists she warms herself by the fire. Morgana doesn't say anything about a young woman living so alone so near the sea, but instead listens to Gwen prattle on about the weather and anything that comes to her mind. The new guest is amusing and Gwen laughs when she makes a strange face upon first sip of her tea.

From that moment, Gwen never asks Morgana where she comes from and Morgana stays. It seems the natural course of action.

"I will never be fully yours," Morgana confesses one night, the first night she presses Gwen down onto her small bed in the corner of the cottage. She kisses her deeply and it tastes perhaps too much of salt. It's like the deepest bit of the ocean and drowning deeply.

"I don't need anyone to be mine." This answer comes too late, after Morgana's lifted Gwen's night shirt over her head and moved it aside. Morgana herself is already undressed, she makes a habit of wandering around in nothing or little to nothing when she can. Gwen has never minded, and she certainly doesn't mind when she can experience this.

They cling to each other closely- Gwen hesitates and then melts into the touch when Morgana slips two fingers into her, thrusting them slowly at first. The sensation feels like the waves lapping on the shore, and she's the waiting beach, always a bit too far out of reach. Morgana is not one to take, which is strange for Gwen, who's always been a giver, she just touches and whispers against her skin and seems to revel in the idea of having the ability to touch another person. Morgana's always looked more like an elegant lady than anything else, and she wonders if she's been starved for affection for perhaps too long.

It's only after a few moments of insistence that she pushes Morgana away gently, smirking to herself. She straddles her, rubbing herself against her leg only for a few moments when she discovers the friction and the joy that brings. Morgana's hands settle on her waist, guiding her as she moves. She's intent on something else, moving down her guest's body and tasting her, licking against her rosy cunt, teasing a tongue against her clit. The taste is nothing she'd expect, it feels warm and comforting and she's again reminded of the feeling of drowning.

When Morgana releases, it's with a shudder and a gasp, no great to-do or shout, just the sensation of relief and the calm after a storm. It's peace that Gwen only knows on quiet mornings after the water's rolled and brought up a hundred year's worth of debris. Morgana looks tired and sated, but resumes her ministrations, the rhythmic fucking of her lover with her adept and agile fingers, her thumb rubs her clit, increasingly insistent, rising like the pressure of the tides. Gwen's too given in to pleasure to do more than writhe and feel, she gladly drowns and noiselessly screams, letting it fill her lungs as she succumbs to the all encompassing pleasure.

She only faintly hears and does not process that Morgana whispers gently against her skin, a reverent kiss to her beach pebble smooth beauty. The words will haunt her one day, but for now all she can think of is sleep.

"I am bound to the sea," she had said, "and though I love you, I can never be yours." There was no need to process because after that night, she knew Morgana would stay. They shared the small cottage and Morgana helps with the Garden and learns to knit. Though she often stares out into the ocean, she never offers to go with Gwen when she takes the dingy out to fish, but instead waits patiently at the shore, barely letting the waters tease her toes. They spend their days working and cooking and laughing and their evenings listening to the sea or reading in the dying light. At night they sleep or fuck on the small bed, after their first encounter, the urgency for touch never truly faded. Eventually the storms come, awful and terrifying things that nearly destroy the garden and one evening bring a tree down on their home. After seven long years those words Morgana uttered on their first night make sense and frantically, with her heart pounding she tears up her floorboards, leaving the tiny cottage a wreck. Both the sealskin and Morgana are gone and a calm day on the horizon.


End file.
